


the pale blue dot

by boasamishipper



Series: and i think it's gonna be a long, long time [7]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Angst, Explosions, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, M/M, Missions, Outer Space, Reunions, SHIELD, SHIELD Council, Surprises, government bureaucracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22102792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boasamishipper/pseuds/boasamishipper
Summary: One way or another, Maverick Mitchell is coming home.
Relationships: Nick Fury & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Series: and i think it's gonna be a long, long time [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1460746
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	the pale blue dot

After ten years, leaving Earth has become just as much of a routine as arriving. He always leaves in the middle of the night — the better to minimize the chances of anyone seeing him, especially after Ice’s kidnapping — and from a secure location. Ice (or Fury, on occasion) drives him out into one of the many alfalfa fields surrounding Fallon, and they make tentative plans to see each other again (or at least to call when Maverick returns to the Cruiser) before Maverick takes off into space.

This time, however, when they get out of the car and Ice says, “So, when do I get to see you again?” Maverick has no answer. Or rather, he doesn’t have the answer that Ice wants. “Mav?”

“I don’t know,” he finally says. He’d spent the last five days trying to hide his terror about his next mission but now it’s rising up in his throat like bile, threatening to choke him. “I…when I get back, we’re — I’m going to Hala. To take down the Supreme Intelligence once and for all.”

Ice, to his credit, does not let his fear show in his expression, though it’s there in the tension in his shoulders, the sudden shallow intake of breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Maverick tries to take a breath of his own. “It’s…it’ll be hard. I don’t...Ice, if I don’t make it—”

“No.”

“Ice, listen to me—”

 _“No.”_ Now fear is etched into every line of Ice’s face, making him look older and drawn. “Don’t say that to me, Mav. You’re going to be fine. You can’t...you’re not…” He swallows hard. His voice goes very quiet. “You promised you’d come home to me,” he says. “Once this was over. And you’re not allowed to back out of that promise now. You hear me, Maverick?”

Tears well up, and he does his best to blink them back. “I hear you,” he says. “I-I promise. I’ll come home to you, Ice. I’ll try.” Because Ice knows that Maverick can’t promise he won’t die tomorrow, but the least Maverick can do for the man he loves is promise he won’t pull a heroic sacrifice, not if he can avoid it. That no matter what happens, he’ll do his best to come home. “I promise.”

Ice gives a tiny, jerky nod. “Okay,” he says. His voice is still small, right on the verge of tears. “Good.”

Maverick embraces him, and Ice clings to him, holding him tightly like he’s afraid Maverick will fade into dust if he lets go. Maverick pulls back slightly so he can kiss Ice, trying not to think about their kiss before he left to test Mar-Vell’s plane all those years ago. How it had ended up being their last despite his best intentions. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ice says. He reaches out to touch Maverick’s face, his hand trembling slightly as it cups Maverick’s cheek. “So much.”

Now Maverick is in real danger of bursting into tears, but he refuses to do so in front of Ice. Not now. “I’ll call you once the mission’s over,” he says, forcing himself to sound strong. “I’ll settle the Skrull in their new home, and then…and then I’ll come home to you, Ice. I promise.”

“Be careful, okay?” Ice’s eyes are wet. “Don’t do anything too dangerous.”

“Hey.” Maverick tries for a smile. “I am dangerous.”

Ice manages a laugh. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I know you are.”

Although Maverick would like nothing more than to stay in Ice’s arms forever, he knows that every second he stays on Earth is putting off the inevitable, so he makes himself step out of the embrace. “I’ll talk to you later,” he says. Yes. Later. Because this is not their last goodbye.

“Later,” Ice echoes. He rubs his sleeve under his eyes, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. “Bye, Mav.”

“Bye.”

Maverick lets the power course through his body and propel him into the sky.

 _I’ll be back,_ he thinks. _I’ll come back, Ice. I’ll come home to you._

* * *

“So you’ve come back.”

The Supreme Intelligence’s voice is barely a whisper, low and alluring, and Maverick can do nothing but stare. When he’d tracked the source of the Intelligence into the center of the Kree-Lar, he’d braced himself for it to attack his mind, to assume the shape of Mar-Vell like last time. But it’s not humanoid now; it’s not even human. Its true form is a huge, amorphous, greenish face with tentacle-like hair, each strand slowly curving through the air like a snake, and it’s all Maverick can do to hide his terror.

“That’s right,” he says. Outside, the Skrull (led by Soren and Talos) are laying siege on the Kree capitol, fighting a damn near impossible battle against the Kree soldiers being controlled by the Supreme Intelligence. He’s only got one chance to do this, and he needs to do it right. “I came to finish what I started.”

“Oh?” the Supreme Intelligence purrs. Maverick can feel the tendrils of its power wrapping around him like a curse, whispering for him to relax, to let it take control, and with enormous effort he forces it aside. “And what is that?”

“To end the war. The lies.” Maverick summons energy to his hands, which are quickly engulfed in blue and orange light. “All of it.”

“You think you can defeat me, Chell?” The Supreme Intelligence’s voice strengthens and slows to a contemptuous drawl. “Your powers are no match for my might. I am stronger than you could ever conceive. You would do well to surrender, to turn your mind over to me. Become a loyal servant of the Empire just as before, and fight for the good of all Kree.”

 _For the good of all Kree, for the good of all Kree, for the good of all Kree._ The words seem to reverberate in the very air around him, driving into his brain like screws and blocking all other thought. It would be so easy to surrender, to give up now. Already the energy in his hands is ebbing away. _A servant of the Empire, just as before…_

_“Come home to me.”_

The words are a flicker of light in an ocean of darkness, and Maverick clings to them like a lifeline, using them to pull himself out of his trance. He’s got the Skrull to fight for, and Ice and Fury and Chewie are waiting for him back on Earth. He needs to fight. “I won’t fall for your tricks,” he snaps. His hands form fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. “I’m stronger than you think I am.”

The air goes cold. “Prove it.”

Maverick hurls a photon blast at the Supreme Intelligence, which blocks the attack effortlessly and sends it careening right back at him. He barely dodges it in time and focuses his energy on his next attack — but that gets blocked as well. Over and over, his frustration building until he gets lucky, hitting the side of its head when he’d been aiming directly between its eyes.

 _It can read my mind,_ he realizes. _I have to block what I’m thinking, and then it can’t block my attacks._

It just about figures that relying on his instincts and not thinking things through is the key to defeating this thing. He needs to attack like a human, not like an ex-Kree soldier. And attack like a human he does. His attacks are sporadic and powerful, and the skin (if it even is skin) on the Supreme Intelligence’s face starts burning wherever his photon blasts land. But it doesn’t look anything other than aggravated. Irritated.

Multiple tiny attacks aren’t going to cut it. He launches himself at the Supreme Intelligence, his entire body burning with so much energy that he almost can’t see straight, and sends his fist flying directly into its eye. 

The Supreme Intelligence howls in agony, and the smell of photon residue and burning flesh is enough to make Maverick gag. But it doesn’t burn to pieces. Doesn’t die. Maverick tries to climb off it and punch the other eye out, but he can’t. He can’t move. He can’t _move._

“Did you really think you could defeat me?” The millions of tendrils of snake-like hair start curling around Maverick’s arms and legs and throat, pinning him to the face of the Supreme Intelligence like some sort of macabre butterfly display. It’s like…he can’t think. It’s like they’re leeching the power out of him. He can feel himself sinking into the Supreme Intelligence’s skin, like it’ll absorb him and use his powers to become even stronger than before. Already its ruined eye is starting to heal. “You aren’t powerful enough, Chell. And you never will be.”

Power. Something flickers in the deep recesses of his mind, through his terror. He’s got power. He remembers five years ago, on Torfa, after he thought Yon-Rogg killed Ice and his display of power almost burned him alive from the inside. He’s got power. And if he wants to win — if he wants the last ten years of his life to have actually had meaning — he needs to show how much power he really has.

With no choice left, Maverick closes his eyes, thinking of the explosion that had given them his powers and the rage he’d felt when he thought Ice was dead. He remembers the heat like the burning of a thousand suns taking him over, the endless power flowing through his veins. And he lets it all loose in one long, horrible scream.

What happens next comes in a series of snapshots, snippets that his burning mind barely understands. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power. A howl of pain. Debris raining down around him. Nothing but orange and blue light. He is a piece of flotsam thrown free by a million tons of pressure and energy, tethered to nothing and no one.

_I’m sorry, Ice._

* * *

It’s been three months since Maverick left for Hala, and Fury’s about ready to lose his mind from worry. Not that anybody at work can tell, except maybe Coulson: that man’s too damn observant for his own good. Still. This is the longest stretch of time that he hasn’t heard anything from Maverick — not a holocall, not a regular call, not even a status update. Even Kazansky hasn’t heard anything, which just makes Fury worry even more. If Maverick’s not talking to Iceman Kazansky, than something must be seriously wrong.

He’s not dead. Fury refuses to accept that possibility, likely though it is due to the nature of Maverick’s last mission and the strength of his opponent. If Maverick were dead, Fury would know. The Skrull would have found some way to get in touch with Kazansky, at least, to tell him the news. Unless they were all killed by the Kree too.

Fury’s not an optimist. Never has been. But after three months of radio silence and listening to Kazansky try not to break down over the holocomms — God, does Fury wish he was one.

Barton’s in Paris trying to track down and kill Natasha Romanoff, better known as the Black Widow, and Coulson’s at SHIELD HQ watching his six from afar. Sharon Carter checks in around nine from Germany, but Fury spends most of the morning in meetings with the Council or finishing up paperwork. He expects the afternoon to be pretty much the same, until his cell phone starts buzzing around one thirty. His real cell phone, not one of the three burners he carries. Only a handful of people in the world know this number, including Fury’s mother, and the number on the screen is unlisted.

He stands up and walks toward the window that overlooks the Potomac, answering his phone on the final ring before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”

_“Hey, Fury.”_

Fury’s knees almost give out from under him. _“Maverick?”_

 _“Yeah. It’s me.”_ A tired laugh — but _damn_ is it a sight for sore eyes. Or ears, rather. _“Sorry it’s been a while.”_

“No shit it’s been a while, Maverick. Where the hell have you been?”

_“Finishing the mission put me in the hospital for a while. The doctor said I couldn’t leave until I was fully recovered.”_

Fury frowns. He knows that Maverick means Gynara, and Maverick knows that Fury knows the names of most of Maverick’s Skrull friends, so why is he just calling her ‘the doctor’? “When’d you get back?”

_“About…eight hours ago. Sir.”_

Fury laughs. “Since when do you call me sir, Maverick?”

Another pause, longer this time. _“Since always. As befits an Agent of SHIELD.”_

Now Fury’s even more concerned. Maverick sounds exhausted, mainly, but there’s something in his voice beyond weariness. Sounds like he’s trying to get Fury to play along with something. Add that to the strange evasion of simple answers, the overly formal words, and the fact that he’d called from a cell phone, not from his communicator or from the emergency pager — something’s up. “Right,” he says, like that was the answer he’d expected all along. “Where are you?”

 _“Manhattan,”_ Maverick says. One of Fury’s apartments is in Manhattan; no wonder Maverick’s there too. _“I, uh. I’ve been arrested.”_

Fury doesn’t drop his phone from sheer shock, but it’s a near thing. “You’ve been _what?”_

 _“Arrested, sir,”_ Maverick says. _“Apparently the NYPD doesn’t take well to the idea of random guys in multicolored jumpsuits wandering around Times Square.”_ Another tired laugh, then a muttered, _“They think I might be an illegal alien.”_

Even Fury laughs at that one. “Well, you are out of this world.”

 _“Please don’t make me laugh.”_ The shallowness of Maverick’s next breath suggests fractured ribs, if not broken ones, so Fury holds off on the jokes. _“Where are you?”_

“DC.”

_“What’re the chances of you coming to bail me out of here?”_

“I’m already on my way.”

* * *

Four hours later brings Fury to Manhattan — or more specifically, to the precinct in Manhattan that had been stupid enough to arrest Maverick Mitchell for loitering in Times Square. He shows his SHIELD ID to the desk sergeant on duty, who escorts him not to the jail cells like he’d been expecting, but to the interrogation rooms in the back. He also hadn’t expected a tall white guy in a cheap suit to stop him from going in, but this, at least, he knows how to deal with. “You better have a good reason for putting your hands on me.”

“Agent Brenner, FBI,” says the man, smug as he holds up his badge. That line probably gets him laid all over Manhattan, but it sure as hell won’t work on Fury.

“Director Fury,” he says, showing his own ID. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. The man in there is one of my agents.” _Or he’s claiming to be, anyway. Smart move._ “So I suggest you get out of my way.”

“The man in there’s been legally dead since 1989,” Brenner says, and Fury thinks, _oh shit._ “I’d be very surprised if he’s actually one of your agents, especially since he didn’t have any ID on him when he was arrested.”

“He was on a mission for SHIELD for the last sixteen years,” Fury says. Two can play at this game — besides, it’s probably the same story as whatever Maverick told the agents after he got arrested. “Not that your security clearance is high enough to know the details.” _It’ll take at least ten minutes for me to come up with something plausible, and an hour for me to get Hill and Coulson and Keller to back me up._ “He hasn’t checked in for three months, and he’s long overdue a debrief. Now move out of my way before I make you.”

Brenner looks like he wants to argue, but one look at Fury — eye-patch, leather coat, and all — makes him realize that this isn’t a fight that he can win. Good. Maybe he isn’t as much of an idiot as Fury thought. He steps out of the way, and Fury enters the interrogation room, shutting the door behind him. He pushes the button on his pager to let Hill know to knock out the cameras in the room, and then he looks up.

Maverick’s sitting at the interrogation table, his hands cuffed together and chained to a loop on the center of the table. There are cuts and grazes on his face, and a greenish bruise on his temple. His hair is shorter than usual, buzzed close to his scalp like a cadet straight out of boot camp. The skin on his arms — from what Fury can see of them — is uneven-looking, rough and smeared and different shades of pink; same for his hands. He looks worse than Fury has ever seen him, but he’s alive. Fury’ll take that.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is hoarse, like he’s done nothing but talk all day. Fury wonders if anybody in this goddamned precinct has given Maverick something to drink, or eat. Or let him sleep — he looks like death warmed over. He tries to rise from the table before remembering he’s been handcuffed, and then sits back down, defeated. “Good to see you, Fury.”

“Good to see you too,” Fury says. He claps Maverick on the shoulder — gently, obviously; it’ll have to do until Maverick’s out of here and they can hug for real — and sits down across from him. “Jesus, Maverick. Usually when you leave on missions I at least get the courtesy to find out where you’re heading. I had to find out from Kazansky a week after you left.”

Maverick’s expression changes in an instant. “Is Ice okay?”

“He’s worried sick about you,” Fury says. That’s an understatement, but he figures Maverick can read between the lines. “Listen, Maverick, I get not calling me, but I figured you’d at least let Kazansky know that you were alive sometime in the last three months.”

“I couldn’t,” Maverick says, pain in his eyes either from his injuries or the thought of Kazansky being upset. Fury’s betting it’s the latter. “Uh, sir. I was…”

Fury sees his careful glance up at the cameras. “Don’t worry,” he says, not unkindly. “Hill turned off the feed remotely. You can speak freely — and quit it with the sirs.” He sees Maverick’s shoulders slump in relief, and reaches across the table to pat Maverick’s hand. “What happened to you, Maverick?”

Maverick exhales. “I took down the Supreme Intelligence,” he says. “The Skrull and I led a coup on Hala. Turned over the government to people we trusted. And I helped them settle on another planet, far from any enemy that wants to find them. The whole planet’s cloaked in a forcefield. They’re all safe. I finished what Mar-Vell started.”

“Great,” Fury says, because it is. “But that’s not what I asked. What happened to _you?_ You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I got run over by the whole damn highway.”

“Maverick.”

Maverick looks down at his hands. “I needed power,” he says. “To take down the Supreme Intelligence. I, uh. I went nuclear. Like I did when Ice got kidnapped. But I couldn’t…it was too much. I couldn’t stop myself.” He takes another ragged breath. “I don’t really remember what happened. The next thing I knew I was in the Cruiser infirmary. I was in a coma for a month, and burned to hell and back from…everything. I spent the last month and a half in and out of the ship’s bacta tanks, doing physical therapy for my arms and legs. Trying to get my powers to work again.”

“Do they?”

“I almost burned them out completely,” he says. “But not quite. They work.” He holds out his hands, palms up, and the energy that flickers there is a little paler than normal, but it’s still there. “I helped them settle on Skrullos II, and then I came back here. Gynara threatened to castrate me if I flew home without fully healing, so that’s why I came back so late.”

“And you didn’t call either me or Kazansky for all that time.”

“I couldn’t,” Maverick says, desperate. “My communicator — it…melted. When I went nuclear. And Soren programmed yours and Ice’s to only respond to my original one, so I couldn’t get in contact with either of you.”

Fury stares. “Aren’t those things made of titanium?”

“Something like that.”

Fury lets out a low whistle. “Can those handcuffs even hold you?”

Maverick’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Nah,” he says. “I’m just trying to be a model citizen.”

“Right,” Fury says. “Obviously. Well, get those handcuffs off; you don’t have to be a model citizen for me.” Maverick obliges, and Fury says, blunt as a battering ram, “So what’s the plan now?”

Maverick looks down again. “I told Ice I would come home to him after my mission was completed,” he says quietly. “And now it’s done, and I want to be with him for real. But I’m legally dead and I don’t have any money or anything, and DADT…”

“It’s still in effect.”

“I know. But I still…I want to come home, Fury. I just don’t know what to do.”

Fury sits back. He’s been thinking about potential solutions to the problem of Maverick returning to Earth since this entire mess of events got started — this might not have been the way he’d envisioned, but he can still work with this. “You did a good job saying you were a SHIELD agent,” he says. “That was quick thinking. If we can convince the government and the military that you were on a mission for us for the last sixteen years, they’ll reinstate you and make you legally alive again. Getting your assets back might be a problem, but I bet Kazansky will be willing to help you out in your time of need.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Maverick’s face before fading. “They’re not going to make me stay here, are they?”

“No,” Fury says. “Get up. I’m taking you to DC with me.”

* * *

It takes another four hours for Fury to convince the precinct and the federal agents to let Maverick leave, even after Fury pays Maverick’s bail — and what fucking stupid charges, honestly, why the hell is loitering in a jumpsuit and looking beat up a crime? Brenner stubbornly refuses to believe the lie that Fury and Maverick are feeding him, throwing around legal precedents until they lose meaning altogether. Fury just keeps countering with the story of Maverick being declared dead so he could work for SHIELD as a shadow, offering references from Hill and Coulson and Peggy Carter and Keller (who all know about the Kree-Skrull war and would gladly back him and Maverick up), and finally, _finally,_ they get to leave. Brenner just says he’ll see Maverick and Fury in court, and Fury laughs all the way out the door.

Fury gets a SHIELD chopper to take them back to DC, and the two of them go straight to his apartment, where Maverick collapses onto the couch and falls asleep almost instantly. He wakes up an hour later when Fury puts a bowl of pasta on the coffee table and makes him eat every bite. Then he knocks back a couple of brightly-colored pills (probably one of Talos’s inventions) with a bottle of water, and falls back asleep. Fury loans him an afghan that his mother knitted for him a few years back, and goes to his room to sleep.

He’s up with the sun, more or less, and Maverick is too. Those pills must be helping him (plus the advanced healing system from the Kree blood in his veins) because he looks a hell of a lot better than he did the night before. Fury gives him a thermos of coffee and a change of clothes, and takes him straight to the Triskelion.

Hill and Coulson are waiting for them on the ground floor, and the crowd parts for the four of them like the Red Sea as they head to the private elevators. Coulson doesn’t say a word until the doors shut on them. “Legal’s been looking into the protocol you and Keller drafted ten years ago, and they think they can get the courts to vitiate the death-in-absentia filed after Maverick got kidnapped by the Kree. Reinstating him and getting back his assets is going to be more complicated, but it should be easier once we revoke that legal death sentence.”

“The Council’s been breathing down our necks since you bailed Maverick out of jail yesterday,” Hill says. “They want to know who he is and why you’ve been saying he’s been on a mission for us for the last sixteen years. Keller and Director Carter have been trying to talk ‘em down but they don’t want to talk to anybody but you.”

“Of course they don’t,” Fury says. “‘Cause that’d make my life _easy,_ and we can’t have that.” The doors ding open, and Fury, Coulson, Hill, and Maverick step out. “Coulson, stall the Council. Hill, how’re the techs doing with falsifying the mission reports?”

“They’ve resorted to taking information out of Barton’s and Sharon Carter’s and paraphrasing it,” Hill says. “I think they’re up to ‘98 or ‘99 by now. Carter got the idea to dig up information on Mar-Vell and falsify records to make him a SHIELD agent too. Maverick, we’ll need your help with some of the details of the accident since Commander Kazansky’s testimony got redacted so heavily.”

“Use the information from the black box data I’ve got in my records,” Fury says to Hill, who nods. “Go check on the techs and tell me when they’ve gotten up to the year 2000. Coulson, let me know when that vein in Councilman Malick’s forehead looks ready to pop, and I’ll come on up and take over. Maverick, you’re with me.”

Maverick blinks in surprise, but he dutifully follows Fury into his office, and then into the side room where Fury sleeps sometimes when work is too important to go home. “What do you need me to do?”

Fury tosses his communicator to Maverick, who catches it without missing a beat. “Call your boyfriend,” he says. “If Kazansky finds out that you’re alive from the morning news, he’ll kick both of our asses into next week.”

Just the idea of getting to talk to Iceman Kazansky again makes Maverick stand up straighter and smile at the communicator in his hands like it’s an old friend. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Me?” Fury says. A smirk twists his mouth. “I’m going to do my job.”

* * *

SHIELD Director’s a hell of a gig, but nobody ever mentions the sheer amount of paperwork that comes with the job. Still, between him, Hill, Coulson, and the amount of grunts they intimidate into working faster, they manage to falsify sixteen years’ worth of paperwork that state Mar-Vell (better known as Michael V. Metcalf) and Maverick (better known as Lt. Commander Peter Matthew Mitchell) were working for SHIELD, the latter as an undercover agent following the former’s death. Coulson stalls the Council for as long as he can, and then Fury goes in with a sharp smile and a folder full of excuses. But as it turns out, they aren’t interested in speaking to him beyond gathering basic information. They want to speak to Maverick.

He knows they have to, and if he stalls them any more, they’re liable to lose their shit on him and that’s the last damn thing he needs right now. So he tells Coulson to keep an eye on them and goes back to his office to get Maverick. They’re going to have to proceed carefully, otherwise they’ll really be up shit creek without a paddle and Maverick will have to spend the rest of his life living in Kazansky’s basement.

Maverick’s still on the comms with Kazansky when Fury comes back to his office, and barely reacts when Fury enters the side room. “Ice, listen to me, you can’t come here—”

 _“The hell I can’t,”_ Kazansky snaps. Maverick had enlarged his hologram, and now the holographic Kazansky is pacing around the room. _“My session’s done, I’ve got nothing holding me here. I’m getting on the next plane to DC and I’m coming to see you whether you like it or not.”_

“Hate to say it, Tom, but I agree with Maverick,” Fury says, and both Kazansky and Maverick look over at him, surprised. “If you come here then SHIELD and the Pentagon will put you under investigation so fast your head will spin. What’re you going to tell them when they ask how you’re involved in this? You think they’ll buy that whatever’s between you and Maverick is platonic?” He gentles his voice the best he can, because Kazansky and Maverick both look like they’ve been stabbed. “Trust me, Tom. It’s in your best interest and your career’s best interest to keep your head out of this. At least for now.”

 _“Fine,”_ Kazansky says at last. He doesn’t sound thrilled, but at least he’s not fighting. _“But I’m coming to DC the second this all gets resolved.”_

“Not if I go to Fallon and see you first.”

_“You better not be thinking about using your powers to fly here. You’ll end up passing out somewhere over Nebraska.”_

“Yes, dear,” Maverick says with an eye roll, but he looks so happy that Fury hates the news he has to impart.

“I hate to break this up,” he says. “Really, I do. But the Council’s requested a meeting with Maverick, and skipping it isn’t an option.”

Maverick startles. “What do they want to see me for?”

“SHIELD’s putting its ass in the line of fire for you, Maverick,” Fury says, not unkindly. “They want to make sure they aren’t betting on the wrong horse if they decide to help you.”

“Right,” Maverick says, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Okay.” To Kazansky, he says, “Wish me luck?”

 _“I would,”_ says Kazansky, _“but you won’t need it.”_ His gaze snaps briefly over to Fury, as if saying _you better not let them hurt him,_ and Fury nods back. If the Council won’t help, he’ll do this on his own. One way or another, Maverick is coming home. _“I love you.”_

“I love you too,” Maverick says, and Kazansky gives him one last smile before his hologram disappears, leaving Fury and Maverick alone.

* * *

The Council comes online a minute after Fury and Maverick arrive, after Hill apologizes for being unable to stall them longer. (He really needs to give her and Coulson raises for all the work they’ve done.) First are Hawley and Singh, followed by Yen and Rockwell and finally Malick, who looks at Fury like he’d like nothing more than to verbally eviscerate him. He’ll be the toughest to convince.

“Council members,” he says. “Thank you for your patience.” He steps to the left, letting Maverick step forward. “As requested, Commander Maverick Mitchell.”

Malick’s hologram is already leaning forward, examining Maverick like he’s some sort of a strange insect. Hawley speaks first, calm and collected. “Please state your full name for the record.”

“Lieutenant Commander Peter Matthew Mitchell.” The words are steady, easy, but Fury can see that Maverick’s hands are shaking at his sides. 

“And Maverick is your callsign,” says Singh. “From when you were a naval aviator, correct?”

Maverick’s jaw tightens. “Yes sir.”

“Commander Mitchell,” Rockwell says, and Maverick kind of startles at the words. “We’d like to debrief you regarding…your situation.”

“My situation,” Maverick says, polite but bewildered. Fury doesn’t blame him. “Uh, starting from where?”

“The beginning,” Malick says. “Start from there.”

Maverick takes a breath, lets it out slowly. “I was sent to TOPGUN in 1986,” he says. “The US Navy Fighter Weapons School, in Miramar, California — before it moved to Fallon, Nevada. I stayed on after graduation as an instructor, and I was asked to assist Commander Mike Metcalf with a project of his in 1988. He said it was authorized by the Pentagon; that he was trying to build a lightspeed engine that would help end wars.”

“Mike Metcalf,” says Hawley, consulting her notes. “Is that the alien known as Marvel?”

“Mar-Vell,” Maverick corrects. “Yes ma’am. But I didn’t know that until we tested his plane in ‘89. We got shot down, and crash-landed by a lake. He was hurt badly; he told me he was trying to stop a war, that he was an alien, and he needed my help.”

“How did you know he was an alien?”

“He was bleeding,” Maverick says. “And his blood was blue. Like mine is now, I guess. From the accident.”

“Tell us about the accident,” says Singh. “What happened?”

Fury isn’t paying much attention to Maverick as he recounts the accident, briefly summarizes the Kree-Skrull war, and talks about his powers. He’s watching the Council’s faces, which give absolutely nothing away other than mild interest, even when Maverick shows them what he can do.

“I woke up on Hala with no memory and blue blood running through my veins,” Maverick says. “They called me Chell — from the piece of my dog tags Minn-Erva and Yon-Rogg scavenged from the accident site. They taught me to fight, to be a good Kree soldier — even though I wasn’t very good at it.” A smirk briefly tugs at his mouth. “My first mission, I got captured by the Skrull, and they…did something to me that knocked some of my memories loose. I escaped and crashed on Earth. Director Fury helped me…track down the information I needed.”

“Which information was that?”

This is where things get tricky. Neither Maverick nor Fury want to bring Kazansky into this (or give away that there’s a man-eating alien cat on Earth), so Maverick (with Fury’s help) recounts meeting Talos, the battle on the Cruiser, and Maverick leaving Earth again to finish what Mar-Vell started.

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for the last ten years,” says Malick. “Helping these Skrull. And you sustained these injuries of yours by taking down the Supreme Intelligence and the Kree government.”

“That’s right.”

“So what are you expecting to happen now?”

Maverick blinks. “Excuse me?”

“What do you expect the Council to do for you, Commander Mitchell? Why return to Earth? If you’re a dead man, you have no commitments here. No family or friends that know you’re still alive, no one other than Director Fury. Why not stay in space where you actually serve a purpose?”

Maverick flinches, and Fury steps forward smoothly, gripping Maverick’s shoulder. _You bastard,_ he thinks, but what he says instead is, “You fail to recognize, Councilman, that Commander Mitchell could prove to be a valuable asset for SHIELD if he stays on Earth.”

Malick scoffs, but Hawley says, “How so, Director Fury?”

“Commander Mitchell’s powers make him virtually immortal,” Fury says, hating that he has to make his friend’s life and freedom into a sales pitch. “You voted for Hawkeye’s recruitment because he could do the impossible work for you. I put forward Commander Mitchell for recruitment for the same purpose.”

Yen raises his eyebrows. “And in exchange?”

“In exchange, you use your influence to make Maverick legally alive again, in every way. Give him back his assets, reinstate him into the Navy. And he’ll work for SHIELD as a consultant. As an asset. Part-time.”

Rockwell looks over at Maverick. “You want to be a pilot again?”

“I want to be an instructor,” Maverick says. “At TOPGUN. Same as I was before I got kidnapped.”

“Again, Commander Mitchell, regarding my question about the lack of family or friends that would be happy to see you again—”

“I never intended to stay in space forever,” Maverick snaps at Malick. “I want to come home. I finished my mission and now I want to come home, and I’ll help SHIELD out because I owe it to Fury, but if you think—”

“Maverick is entitled to live the life he wanted to before he got kidnapped by the Kree,” Fury cut in, though on any other occasion he would love to watch Maverick verbally tear Malick to shreds. “He’s agreed to help this organization in exchange from help from you. My agents have fabricated sixteen goddamn years worth of paperwork that you can show the government that states he and Mar-Vell were working for us the whole time, so that’s his alibi taken care of. So if you want an asset like him, I suggest you agree to the terms we’ve laid out before we go to the CIA and the FBI.”

The CIA and the FBI would love to have an asset like Maverick, and Fury knows it. So does the Council, evidently, because this jab hits home. Hawley clears her throat. “All in favor of accepting Commander Mitchell as an asset of SHIELD?”

Rockwell raises his hand. Then Yen, then Singh, then Hawley. And then, finally, begrudgingly, Malick. A unanimous vote.

“Give the Council a week to fulfill our end of the bargain,” Hawley continues. _I knew I always liked her,_ Fury thinks. “And then, Commander Mitchell, we will discuss how you will fulfill yours.”

Maverick nods. “Yes ma’am.”

“Motion to adjourn?”

“I second.”

“I third.”

“Excellent,” says Hawley crisply. “Council out.”

The holograms all disappear at once, and Fury and Maverick let out twin sighs of relief. “So,” Maverick says. “What exactly does this ‘valuable asset’ thing entail?”

“Doing me the odd favor on occasion,” Fury says. “And with Kazansky running TOPGUN, I doubt you’ll have trouble getting out of work. Nothing too serious, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Maverick says, and then goes serious. “Thanks, Fury. I owe you one. A big one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Fury says, waving him off. “Besides, if this whole asset thing works out, it’ll let me bring up another idea to the Council.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fury grins at him. “Remind me to tell you about the Avengers Initiative sometime.”

* * *

Exactly one week later brings Maverick and Fury back into a meeting with the Council. They’d decreed that Maverick couldn’t leave the premises of the Triskelion, not even to one of Fury’s apartments, so Maverick had spent the last seven days hanging around Coulson and Hill and helping them beat Fury at cards. Fury would have gone stir-crazy by now if he were in Maverick’s shoes, but all that time cramped up in the Cruiser must have given him some patience. 

Hawley’s presiding over the meeting, and as usual, she gets right to the point. “Commander Mitchell,” she says. “The Council has fulfilled our end of the bargain. We have filed the proper paperwork to vitiate your ‘death,’ and as of nine o’clock this morning, you were officially reinstated into the United States Navy as a lieutenant commander. The necessary documents, like your driver’s license and social security card, are forthcoming. In return, we leave your work as an asset of SHIELD to Director Fury, with the understanding that he will direct you as he sees fit.”

 _Translation,_ Fury thinks, _make sure you actually use him for something so we didn’t waste a week of our lives pulling strings to bring him back to life._

“However,” Malick says, and Fury stills. “I recall you wanted to return to TOPGUN, Commander Mitchell?”

“Yes,” Maverick says. “I did. I do.”

“I believe someone named Kazansky is in charge of that program, correct? Commander Thomas James Kazansky, callsign Iceman. He was Top Gun in ‘86, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Fury is starting to feel distinctly uneasy, and clearly so does Maverick. “He was.”

“He went missing for a period of eight days five years ago,” Malick says. “And then suddenly reappeared, with a story that he’d been kidnapped. And according to the records, the man who took him into the hospital used the name Joseph Nichols. One of your aliases, isn’t it, Director Fury?”

It’s all Fury can do to keep from swearing aloud. Kazansky had convinced Maverick not to let Gynara heal him too much, since it would be suspicious to Earth authorities if he turned up completely fine after almost a week. He and Maverick had checked Kazansky into the hospital, and Maverick had left before the police turned up (and after kissing Kazansky goodbye). Fury had used an alias so nothing would come back to SHIELD, but apparently that hadn’t worked out. “It might be, Councilman.”

“So what connection does Commander Kazansky bear with SHIELD?” Malick says. “And what, Commander Mitchell, is Kazansky’s connection to you?”

“He’s my friend,” Maverick says quickly. “That’s all. Just my friend.”

“So he knows you’ve been alive all this time? And about your space crusade?”

Maverick swallows hard. “Yeah,” he says. “He knows. He was kidnapped by the Kree five years ago, and I saved him. Brought him back to Earth.”

“How many times have you been to Earth since leaving in 1995?”

“I don’t know,” Maverick says, somewhere between irritated and nervous. “A lot. Why does it matter?”

“Because of the security risk inherent in civilians knowing you’re alive when we’ve just—”

“He isn’t a civilian, he’s an officer, and you can trust him. He won’t say anything. He hasn’t said anything to anybody about me being alive.”

“Why did the Kree kidnap Commander Kazansky?” Hawley asks, cutting off Malick’s retort before it can begin. “Commander Mitchell?”

“Because they knew…” Maverick swallows again. “They knew he was…important to me.”

“Why is that?”

“He already said they were friends, Councilman,” Fury says, his patience with Malick firmly at an end. “You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if I believe him, Director Fury. It seems to me that there’s more to this story.”

“There isn’t,” Maverick snaps. “He’s my friend. The Kree took him, I brought him back. Nobody on this planet besides him and Fury know I’m alive. I haven’t broken any rules, and neither has Commander Kazansky. So leave him out of this before I walk.”

“I agree,” Hawley says, with a sharp look at Malick that makes Fury wonder if she’d read between the lines. “We’ve both held up our end of this deal. Commander Mitchell, we will be in touch with Commander Kazansky and let him and the heads of NAWDC know to expect a new instructor. Director Fury will be in touch with you regarding your work for SHIELD. Though you will need an alias, as one of our assets.”

“An alias, ma’am?”

“A code name. Hawkeye is the alias of Agent Clint Barton. What shall we mark yours as?”

“Commander Mar-Vell,” Maverick says. At Fury’s raised eyebrows, he clarifies, “That’s what the Skrull were calling me in space.”

“Commander Marvel it is,” Rockwell says, noting it, and before either Maverick or Fury can correct him, his hologram disappears, followed by Hawley, Singh, Yen, and a glowering Malick. Fury really shouldn’t have pissed that man off, but oh well. Things seem to have worked out anyway.

“Commander Marvel, huh,” says Fury. “Always did like Marvel better than Mar-Vell. I think it suits you.”

Maverick shrugs. “Agree to disagree,” he says. “But I’ll get used to it.” He claps Fury on the back. “Thank you, Fury. Or should I start calling you sir?”

“Call me anything but Fury and I’ll throw you out the window,” Fury says, and Maverick laughs.

“So what’s my first mission now that I’m alive again?”

“To go to my apartment,” Fury says. “Very important, top priority. There’ll be something waiting for you there before you go to Nevada.”

Maverick puts his hand over his heart. “You got me a present?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Fury says, grinning. “Get out of here, Maverick. And try not to get arrested this time.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Maverick says, flashing him a salute and another grin before taking off from the room at a sprint.

* * *

Fury’s apartment isn’t far from the Triskelion, but Maverick takes his time: it’s the first time in more than a week that he’s been outside and tasted fresh air, and he’s missed flying — even if he has to be more careful about being spotted now that he’s back on Earth. Back home, at last.

The doorman greets him with a nod when he enters, and Maverick takes the elevator up to the tenth floor. He has no clue what to expect when he opens the door; for all he knows, Fury could have been joking about the whole present thing, and—

“Hey, Mav.”

Maverick throws himself at Ice before the words even fully register, and Ice catches him, damn near lifting him off the ground. They collapse on Fury’s couch together, Maverick on top of Ice in a position that cannot be comfortable, but Ice just pulls him even closer and Maverick loses himself in their kiss. _Best homecoming present ever._

“Mav,” Ice is saying, “God, Mav,” over and over again, breathless between kisses until his name threatens to become sound only. “Mav.”

“God, I missed you.” Maverick’s kissing Ice’s neck, breathing him in, and fumbling with his belt — good, there it goes, and now he can get Ice’s pants off. “Missed you so much, baby.”

Maverick goes to pull off Ice’s shirt while Ice is already trying to do the same to Maverick, and to nobody’s surprise, the whole thing ends up in a tangled mess. Ice is laughing, saying something muffled and apologetic as he tries to free Maverick from where he’d somehow gotten trapped with his own shirt caught over his head, and it’s…God, he’d missed this. He’d missed this — missed Ice — so much.

“Mav,” Ice says once both of them are free and Maverick can kiss Ice with all the enthusiasm he can muster. This has been a long time in the making. “We are not going to fuck on Fury’s couch.”

“We are absolutely going to fuck on Fury’s couch.”

“Fury’s gonna — God, Mav — Fury will kill us if that happens.”

“I’ll protect you,” Maverick says, even though he can _hear_ Gynara telling him not to overexert his powers (or himself) or the next six months at least. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. “And he owes me. I work for him now.”

“Wait, what?” Ice pulls back from the kiss, and Maverick reluctantly gets his hands off the hem of Ice’s boxers. The sooner he explains, the sooner they can get back to this. “You work for Fury now?”

“SHIELD agreed to help make me legally alive again if I worked for them as an asset,” he says. “So technically I work part-time for him and SHIELD. And full-time at TOPGUN as an instructor.”

“You’re coming back to TOPGUN?”

“The Council’s pulling strings with the Navy to reinstate me as a lieutenant commander,” he says. “And I said I wanted to come back to TOPGUN, so they said they’d be in touch with you and the heads of NAWDC so you could hire me as an instructor.”

“I’m going to hire you as an instructor,” Ice repeats. His serious tone is belied by the smirk that’s spreading across his face. “Why is that?”

“Because they’ll tell you to.”

“Well, if they think I’m just looking for someone to push papers around and look pretty, they can forget it. I have enough headaches just trying to run the place.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Maverick says, but he’s smiling too. “I can’t believe I’m going to propose to you.”

Ice goes white, and Maverick immediately thinks, _oh fuck fuck fuck._ That wasn’t what he was supposed to say! He’d wanted to say _I can’t believe I’m in love with you,_ not that! “You’re going to _what?”_

“Shit,” Maverick says. He had a _plan_ for this, damn it, a plan that he’d intended to follow the second SHIELD legally revived him, and now he’d gone and blown it while he’s laying half naked on top of Ice on Fury’s couch. _“Shit.”_

“Is that — did you just—”

“No,” Maverick says. “No, I mean — yeah, but I didn’t want to do it like this. Unless you’re not open to this, then in that case I didn’t do anything and we can just—”

“Maverick.”

Maverick shuts up.

“Are you asking me to _marry_ you?”

Ice’s voice is soft, stunned, like he can hardly believe what he’s asking. Maverick moves back a little so they can both sit up, praying that Ice can’t tell his hands are shaking. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I…I am.”

His face twitches like he isn’t sure whether to smile, laugh, or cry. “DADT’s still in effect, Mav.”

“I don’t care. It won’t last forever, and I…” He takes Ice’s hand just for something to hold onto. “I waited ten years to come home to you, Ice, and I want to marry you as soon as we can. I want to be yours forever, and I want you to be mine, even in…in—”

“In sickness and in health?”

“Pretty much.” Maverick’s laugh is wet. “So are you going to marry me or what, Kazansky?”

“Yes,” Ice says. There are tears in his eyes, but his grin is so big it threatens to split his face, and relief hits Maverick so hard that it makes his knees shake. “Yeah, Mav, I’ll marry you.”

Maverick throws his arms around Ice and kisses him deep. They’re both kissing and crying and this isn’t anywhere near how he’d imagined this going down, but it’s perfect anyway.

Then Ice starts laughing, breaking the kiss so he can bury his face in the crook of Maverick’s neck, and Maverick’s grin becomes more uncertain as he pulls back. “What?”

“Do you even have a ring?”

His face goes red. Right. So there’s the drawback of proposing without a plan. Whoops. “Uh. Not exactly.”

“Right.”

“I’ll get you a ring,” Maverick says. Or rather, he’ll ask Fury or Hill or Coulson to help him get one since he doesn’t have any money yet. “A really good one. I promise.”

Ice just grins up at him, mischievous in a way that he normally isn’t, and it makes Maverick feel breathless. He guides Maverick’s hands to the hem of his boxers, and Maverick loses his breath completely. “Make it up to me in the meantime.”

Maverick is happy to oblige.


End file.
